


The Good Doctor - The Waif Years

by Soquilii9



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Grifting, Hope, Stealing, Surviving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: Steve and Shaun Murphy have been forced into circumstances not faced by many children - escaping an abusive household and struggling to survive by their wits on the street.  What future lies in store for them?





	The Good Doctor - The Waif Years

 

An icy wind howled through the scrap metal yard and around and under the carcass of the old school bus.  The decrepit vehicle, which once carried a load of raucous, lively kids to and from school rocked slightly on its dry-rotted wheels.  Its only occupants these days were two homeless boys who were at this moment frantically taping old newspapers to the windows and stuffing more paper into cracks in the floor and along the walls.  An old trailer stove resurrected from the junkyard served as a heater.  Its small fire of twigs and paper gave off little heat, demanding the boys replenish it constantly from a considerable stockpile of trash stored at the back end.  In the middle on the floor of the bus were two old mattresses piled high with pillows pilfered from trash bins and their own blankets.

Exhausted and shivering, they ceased their labors and huddled around the stove.

‘Maybe…maybe we should go back home,’ said the older boy, haltingly.

‘Are you serious, Dude?  You know what’ll happen.’

‘Maybe he won’t hit me anymore.  Maybe Mom will stop it.’

The younger boy, Steve, looked at him in disbelief.  ‘You’re overusing the word _maybe_ , Shaun.  Think back.  Did she ever try to stop Dad before?  Did she do anything except say stuff like _you're hurting him_  ?  Fat lot of good _that_ did.’

The older boy shook his head.  ‘Not…not really.’

‘Dad had a tight grip on her.  I guess she didn’t want to rock her own boat.’  Too late, Steve realized his statement would make no sense to his brother, who took every statement quite literally.  As an autistic, he had no compass for metaphors or abstracts, something Steve was too young to understand from a clinical point of view, but somehow knew instinctively.  He had always had the better line at communication with his brother, something his parents never even attempted to develop.

As Shaun stared at his brother quizzically, Steve quickly altered his words.  ‘Mom didn’t want Dad to leave her.  She depends on him.  I guess it was ok with her for _us_ to leave instead.  I’m just glad she didn’t put us into the foster system.’

‘What’s a foster system?’

‘Dude – you wouldn’t like it.  You know Amy from your homeroom?  She’s a foster kid.  Different family every few months, carries her clothes in a garbage bag, has to sleep on the couch half the time.  She hates it.  She told me so.’

Shaun shivered.  Steve reached up and pulled the collar of his brother’s jacket higher.  He ruffled his brother's hair affectionately and bent to feed more twigs into the fire.  Both boys stared at the flames for a while, listening to the crackle and watching the embers glow.

‘Not exactly TV, is it?’

‘I wish it was.  I want a TV.’

‘We’re poor, Dude.  Told you that before.  Besides, where would we plug it in?’

Steve, though two years younger, had always assumed a parental role over his older brother.  He’d had to take over a protective role as well, because Shaun had been constantly bullied at school.  As Steve grew and Shaun’s condition became more evident (and unwelcome) to their parents, it had fallen to Steve to protect his brother at home as well.  Although he scored good grades, Shaun would act out frequently at school and be sent home, where he faced beatings from his father, while his mother wrung her hands in the background and made half-hearted protests.  Steve figured she was afraid the old man would turn on her for giving him a defective son.  For whatever reason, the old man would hammer away at Shaun before sending him to his room and dive into a six-pack.  The stormy night he ripped Shaun’s pet rabbit out of his arms and flung him into the wall, killing him instantly, was the final straw.  After their parents had gone to bed, Steve instructed his brother to pack all his clothes and as many blankets as he could carry in trash bags.  The boys wrapped the rabbit in a towel and took it along.  They left their stuff at the junkyard and took the rabbit to the doctor’s office.  He had very sympathetically examined it and advised them to bury it.  After they buried him, they returned to the junkyard, hauled their trash bags of stuff into an old school bus and set up housekeeping.

That was last spring.  This was winter.  The junkyard was transformed by the snow but its improved appearance did little for the boys holed up in the freezing cold interior of the bus.

‘I’m hungry,’ said Shaun.

‘I know.  Me, too.  We’re out of food.  Can you wait till tomorrow?’

‘How will you buy food.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get us something to eat.’

‘You said we didn’t have any money.’

‘Stop it, Shaun.  I know where I can get some stuff.  If I’m not here in the morning when you wake up, I want you to stay right here.  Don’t follow me.  Now go to sleep.’

Grifting; playing games with people such as collecting for imaginary field trips or any number of hardship stories Steve could invent hadn’t brought much money lately.  He’d managed a few odd jobs around town but not many people wanted to hire a twelve-year-old.  He’d even resorted to begging a time or two but there were always lean times when nothing worked.  His only alternative was shoplifting.  He figured the store was insured against loss, so maybe nicking a few cans of beans and weiners wouldn’t be all that bad.  Besides, it couldn’t be helped.  They had to eat.

Experience had taught him that convenience stores had tighter security than most, as did the large chain stores, so he chose a Mom-&-Pop grocery on the corner.  A little bell on the door announced his presence.  Holding a sheet of notebook paper, he appeared to be scanning the shelves for items listed on it.  He kept an eye on the single checkout counter.  When the owner wasn’t looking, he deftly put four large cans into the pockets of his bulky jacket.  When he came to the counter, he showed his list of rare, high-end items and asked the proprietor if they had any in stock.  The old man shook his head.

‘Darn, Mom needed this for her recipe.  Do you know who carries them?’

‘Try the place a block up the street.  They have gourmet items.’

‘Thanks!’ Steve smiled, and headed nonchalantly out the door.  Once he was around the corner and out of sight he breathed a sigh of relief.  They’d eat tonight.  Steve didn’t dwell on what he’d just done.  It was a matter of survival, after all.

Back at the bus, the boys heated their dinner by replacing the grill over the live coals in the stove and setting the cans on it.  They sat by the fire eating out of cans with plastic forks, staring at the flames.

‘Is it always going to be like this?’ Shaun ventured to ask.

‘No.  We’re gonna make it.  We’ll get after school jobs and I heard there’s a church that gives away old clothes.’

‘I can't get a job.  I don’t know how to do anything.’

‘You’ll learn.  I keep telling you that you’re smart, Shaun.  I’ve seen you read a book once and repeat it word for word.  There’s something special about your brain, I don’t know what, but I know it’s there.  You gotta trust me.  We’re all we'll ever need, just you and me.  We’ll finish school and maybe even go to college.  We won’t ever have to go home again.  It might be a little tough, but we’ll make it.’

Shaun finished the last of his dinner, opened a window and threw the can out.

‘Beats washing dishes, don’t it?’ Steve joked.

‘I’m going to get my kit now.’

Steve watched as Shaun opened the toy medical kit he’d gotten him for a present some weeks ago.  He didn’t even play normally, Steve observed.  The toy was for a much younger child; half Shaun’s age, yet Shaun seemed fascinated by it.  He took out the little plastic stethoscope, thermometer, reflex hammer, scalpel and other pieces and examined them one by one.  He returned again and again to the scalpel.  It was obviously his favorite.  The kit kept Shaun busy for the next hour, when it began to grow dark.

‘We’d better go to bed now, while it’s a little warm in here,’ Steve suggested.

‘Okay.’  Shaun carefully reassembled the toy medical kit and placed it neatly by his bed.

The boys huddled under their blankets.

‘Hey, Shaun?’

His brother didn’t answer.

‘I was thinking…you’re smart enough, maybe you’d like to be a doctor someday.  Use a _real_ scalpel.  Would you like to do something like that?’

Shaun’s answer was forthright, if simple.  ‘Yes.’

'G'night, Shaun.'

 

THE END


End file.
